


Secret Child

by redlionspride



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Confessions, Father/Daughter, Gen, M/M, Prompt Fill, Secret Child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlionspride/pseuds/redlionspride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you are dead, you are dead. There is no returning from it. Only sometimes you aren't always dead. Sometimes SHIELD makes mistakes and orders aren't pulled fast enough.</p><p>When Phil Coulson died his personal belongings were sent to his only living Next of Kin... his daughter.</p><p>The daughter he only learned about recently.</p><p>Now that he's alive he needs to get his things back... and explain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Child

**Author's Note:**

> This story was just meant to be a real fast weird lil thing for Trope Bingo! The prompt square is SECRET CHILD and a friend of mine who role plays Darcy agrees with me that this is adorable and cute and so... yeah. What better response to that square! 
> 
> This hasn't been beta'd at all, but I wanted to post it anyhow. More bingo squares to fill in soon! Hope you like it and comments are always encouraged. Thanks!

Prompt: Secret Child

He was parked outside the girls apartment, just a half a block down, leaning back in the leather seats of his not so inconspicuous black Acura. Checking his watch he realized he’d been sitting there for about an hour. Almost. There was a moment of surprise to the fact that no one had come up to his car to say anything about it. This neighborhood seemed to have a Watch that was pretty strict. Perhaps he just hadn’t been noticed. 

Phil Coulson wasn’t here on stake out. There was no mission to be on. Nothing like that. He was just trying to correct a possible issue. The problem was... he wasn’t sure how to approach this issue. 

“Again, why are we here?” Barton asked dryly from the passenger seat of the car. He had the seat lowered clear back and was half curled into the seat, partly awake and partly out of it. Phil knew the moment something went down the man would be more then wide awake. They had that same habit in common. 

“Unfinished business.” Phil said blandly, eyes staring off down the street. Having Clint here was the other side of his reluctance. He didn’t want to deal with more than one truth being told in a day. It was hard enough to show up here as it was, it was harder still when Clint wouldn’t ‘allow’ him to leave without some form of company. 

It was nice, of course. He knew the others were worried about him. It was bad enough seeing how his death affected Clint, but it also seemed to affect everyone else. They were all concerned though. After all it was just a month ago that he had suffered a spear to the chest that almost killed him. 

Truth be told (and that was what today was about, truths being told, it seemed) he had died four times in that first week. The attack from Loki did infact kill him, but they managed to resuscitate him shortly after. Only he didn’t hang in there too long. This back and forth happened off and on, for different issues here and there. When they got a young man in with mutant healing powers, that’s when Coulson was out of the red and on the road to recovery. 

That was when Fury had let the information that the man was alive slip to a couple of upset Agents. The plan to get the Avengers together and working like a team worked out, in the end. It was a last ditch effort that pulled through. But after it was over it was easier to let them mourn now then it was to let the mourn, rejoice and mourn once again incase the man didn’t make it. 

Thankfully, here he was, alive, breathing, healed fairly well, and (kind of) back to work. Light duty only. Which was killing him in it’s own right, as every time he tried to do anything of his normal ability someone or another would slap that idea down and make him go slower, or delegate the work to someone else. 

He was bored. 

Or, he was for a short time. He’d only been back to work for a full week, and returning to his land side office in New York he realized a lot of his personal things were missing. It wasn’t as if he had a lot there. Some plaques, certificates, his military records and awards. A few pictures he almost always had hidden in a desk drawer. 

HIs office was perfectly in order, boxed up, packed and stacked. Cleaned but not moved out yet. Someone had come in and put it all in boxes but had been informed to stop... after they have finished.

Because he didn’t use his office much, other than paper work, he hadn’t realized that things were missing. It took half a week of unpacking (much of which Barton helped him with) to realize anything personal was now gone. 

To his horror he found that they not only believed he was truly dead, but they were following protocol and sent his personal belongings to his next of kin. 

Which wouldn’t be too bad if it was just going to his mother, but his mother had passed away several years ago and he HAD no next of kin. Or at least, nothing that he had full responsibility. 

On record he did however have one person that his belongings would go to. He had a moment of personal guilt a while back and placed her name down on his paperwork as his next of kin. 

It happened shortly after the events in New Mexico. After dealing with Thor’s Hammer and Miss Fosters research. When he and his crew packed up their stuff to leave, Jane Foster and her group confronted him. It was the first time he had seen her. 

She looked exactly like her mother. 

She was the right age too. 

Darcy Lewis, almost a spitting image of her mother, if Phil had been right about his guess. After that event he called Marie Lewis, his ex from some time ago. The conversation started out friendly, chatting, charming, going over the good old days. But then Marie asked what he was really calling about. 

_”I saw your daughter. Darcy, was it?”_ The line went silent for a little while after that. 

Another hour later and ‘I didn’t want to bother you’ followed with a passive aggressive ‘I just didn’t want to tell you’ and then a crying ‘I wanted to keep her and not burden your life’ had brought the phone call to its peak.

Three hours later the call had ended due to the fact that he hadn’t reported in yet. Excusing himself he made plans to meet in the future, very soon. 

After the Destroyer incident he’d managed to return ‘home’ which left him a free evening. Marie and he talked. They weren’t as serious as she had hoped, and she knew his work came first. What ever that work was. He’d been in the end of his Army career at that point and was worried he’d not want the child. She kept it, in secret, moved back home to Portland with her parents and raised the child there. 

Now Darcy was in New Mexico due to school. Apparently getting into trouble with Gods from Space and mystical hammers. Not that he told her about that. That information wasn’t hers to know, unless Darcy told her. But that was beyond his handling. 

In short? Phil Coulson was a secret father. He’d only found out a year or so ago. He never made any mention about it to anyone outside of Marie.

And then they started dating. She was playing cello in New York and it was simple. Easy. It felt nice to fall back into some form of routine or normalcy of human life. Only he still couldn’t tell her anything, and his job still gave him more work then one man should possibly be able to handle. 

She moved back to Portland, because there was a better offer of work there, and because she just couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t handle the heartbreak yet again. So she moved, and Phil moved on, because work was more important than his own contentment. 

And then New York was attacked. 

And he was glad she moved away in time. 

And then he died. 

So here he was, sitting in a car, watching a building a half a block away, and trying to make himself get out of the car. They had delivered his personal effects to Darcy’s home. Why? Because he was stupid and listed her as his next of kin, in hopes that if he did die, she’d at least be covered with some form of child support that he never knew he needed to send. He figured it wouldn’t matter if he died and she found out. Right? 

Only he wasn’t dead, and she had his things. It wasn’t really that he felt he needed to get them back. Sure, some of them were personal and helpful in his work but they could all be replaced or just didn't matter. 

What mattered was that he... he wanted to see her. To say something. Not that he had died and came back to life there had been things that he felt needed to be fixed. He needed to actually have a bit of a life. 

And in his life this was the biggest thing he had open and sitting there. He didn’t even know about it for some time. 

“Boss?” Clint asked, raising a brow at him. “Is that the Lewis girl?” He spotted a figure in the rearview mirror. Phil shifted to look, frowning. 

Great. 

Darcy was at the car window, hands in her hoodie pockets, leaning forward to stare into the darker glass tint. “I know it’s you in there. I swear, if you have your shades on inside a tinted car I am never letting you live it down. Open up, G-man!” 

Phil frowned, glancing at Clint who was pulling his sunglasses off swiftly and tucking them into a drink cup. Phil snorted, rolling down the window. “Miss Lewis.” He said blandly. 

She leaned forward, seeing him and then looking past to the other in the car. Her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned, frowning disapprovingly inside at them both. “Mind telling me why you’re playing stalker outside my friends apartment? She’s been freaked out for the past hour. I’ll tell you now, I have no issues tasing you for being creepy. You either Hawk-guy. Don’t care how hot you are. You’re going down a moment later.” 

Clint let out an amused laugh, pushing the lever on his seat and making it come up right again. “Nice to see you again, Darcy. How’s work?” 

Darcy smiled past Phil to the other guy. “Could be better. Jane’s on break with her Thunder God. Erik’s been busy with you guys. Me? Figured I’d kick around and finish up some classes.” She was leaning on the door of the car now, ignoring Coulson who was looking bored with all this. 

Bored and a bit annoyed with the fact that Clint was flirting with Darcy. Or, well, Phil was seeing it that way. He had no right to be annoyed, he knew, but he did decide to butt in before it got worse. 

“Miss Lewis. I’m here to pick up a box of things that were delivered to you on mista--”

“That’s right! We have words!” She cut him off, reaching inside to grab the door handle and pop it open, pulling his door open. “Lots of words.” 

Phil gave Clint a look that said ‘this was a mistake. Why did you let me come here.’ before putting his sunglasses on again and stepping out of the car. “Stay here, Barton.” He said lightly as he heard the other door start to open. Normally Barton would snort and follow anyhow, but Phil had the feeling he heard the pleading undertones in his words. Please, just stay here. 

Inside Darcy’s little apartment, Phil could see little touches from her mother. Things that had to be gifts from her, or at least objects that would remind Darcy of Marie. It was sparse, rarely looking lived in, and fairly clean. Piles of paperwork, books, homework, notebooks and other school odds and ends sat on a table and coffee table. Her kitchen was clean, other than a few dishes in the sink. 

Phil slipped his glasses off and opened his mouth to talk, but Darcy rounded on him, jabbing a finger sharply into the center of his chest. He was grateful it was center and not further to the left, or it might have hurt. 

“You’ve got some explaining to do, G-man. I’ve got this box of your junk over here with some Agent’s condolences for my loss. What’s going on and why are you alive?” 

Well, that didn’t start out too badly. “I’m afraid that’s confidential, Miss Lewis. I can’t--” 

“Bullshit. You having your life still, which, by the way Agent, I am glad to hear you’re not dead, but it isn’t confidential. Jane knew you were alive! Her golden haired god told her that much. What’s going on?” 

“You go to school in New York?” Phil asked, looking around again, directing the subject elsewhere. “I thought you were in--” 

“That’s not the topic we’re discussing here. But yes, New York now. Jane’s working with you guys on something. I think she just wants to be closer to Thor. Can’t blame her, the big dumb puppy. What we’re talking about is why did you have me listed as next of kin!?” 

Phil frowned, eyes returning to the girl. He slipped his glasses away in a pocket, hands going inside his pants pockets to rest. “It was a mistake. They brought my belongings to the wrong house.” 

“Bullshit answer!” She said, pulling out her phone and starting to type something. “Dear Facebook. G-man is here from the dead giving me bullshit answers. Days been great. How are you?” She mumbled as she type. Then she shot him a dark eyes glare. So much like her mothers. “Lets start with why you’re not as dead as they thought you were.” 

“I was dead.” He said lightly, shrugged and started to move around a bit to look over the apartment. A picture of Marie on her wall. He paused to look at it, smiling. “I was dead and then not. Apparently the news didn’t spread fast enough. A mix up in the paperwork, it seems. So, if you can point me to the box, I’ll get it out of your hair.” 

“SHIELD is good. They’re smart. Full of brainy people and what not. A mix up like that? I don’t think so. Why am I put down as your next of kin? Tried prodding mom about it but she isn’t talking.” 

“How is your mother?” Phil asked softly, smiling at the photo on the wall. 

“Like you care. Stop changing the subject.” 

“Is she still playing with the Portland Symphony? How did that go for her?” 

Darcy shrugged at first, saying “Yes. She’s first seat. Doing we~ell...wait. What?” She eyed him a moment. “Did your work well this time, hmm? Investigating my mother now too? What’s going on?” 

“Nothing like that. I know Marie pretty well.” He smiled, glancing back to her. “You don’t want to know why the paperwork was wrong, so why not let this pass and I’ll be on my way.” 

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa._ How about no and you start with why you know my mother!” 

Phil just smiled again. Fondly. 

“Ew, gross. Don’t tell me you were the ‘hot number’ she was seeing while in New York! Gross, gross, gross. It was bad enough she gushed about you but I expected him to have a bit more hair.” 

“It’s genetic. At least on the mens side of the family. You won’t have much to worry about.” He said with a small shrug, but Darcy was still going on. 

“You broke her heart you know! She wouldn’t have taken that job back home if you hadn--Excuse me?!” 

“There’s a reason you were marked as my next of kin, Darcy. You might want to speak to Marie about it yourself, as I only found out a few years ago.” He gave a small nod, eyes watching, studying her a moment longer. “If she hasn’t told you yet, she must not intend to.” 

Her mouth hung open, her finger raised to state something else, only to have no words come out. 

“So, if you would direct me to that box.” Phil encouraged the speechless girl. 

She stared at him, then frowned darkly, arms crossed. “You can’t just come in here, declare some wild story like that, then expect to pick up a box and walk off!” She pointed sharply to a couch, eyes flaring, angry. “You move it over there. Park your butt on that couch and talk. You’re not leaving this apartment until I get some answers!” 

And she was right. 

He didn’t leave the apartment for another hour and a half. Much less time than it took for Marie to tell him what was going on in the first place. It went a little better however, than he had expected. There were no hugs or titles, but there was a good cup of coffee, some talk and a promise to meet in a few days at a local coffee shop they both liked, to talk a bit more. 

When Phil returned to the car, Clint was spread out across the back seat, his shoes sticking out the window, stretched out and half asleep. “Hey handsome, how’s our little Darcy?” 

“Our?” Phil said, sliding into the front seat and changing the radio station from rock back to his jazz. 

Clint moved to sit up, just before Phil rolled the window up on his feet. Leaning between the two front seats he grinned over at the Agent. “She’s a real spitfire, isn’t she? What bullshit story were you trying to tell her?” 

Phil raised a brow at this, but Clint help up his phone with the facebook app open. “I follow her for her witty commentary on the things Thor does while around. It’s good for a laugh.” 

“I see.” He busiied himself with adjusting the rear view mirror, as if it were out of place.

“So, Pop. You didn’t get your stuff?” 

Phil froze a moment, looking into the rearview mirror to stare at Barton. 

He held up the phone again and spoke, reading. “Father issues. Won’t it be a great day. No more updates for now.” 

This made Phil sigh, shaking his head. He watched her type that too. He slid back into his seat a bit more, eyes down to the keys in his hand. Then with a small smirk, he stuck the key in the ignition and turned the car on. “She’s holding the box for ransom. Said I can have a piece of the box each visit.” 

Clint smirked, head tilted. “What did you get today?” 

He pulled out a silver pen with a laser pointer. Showing it to the man. “I don’t think she realized it has a knock out gas button, or she’d have kept it.” 

Barton barked a laugh and moved to slide up into the front seat, leaning over to drop a pecked kiss on the man's cheek before settling and pulling a seat belt on. “So. Daughter, huh? You never said anything about having a family.” 

“Never knew until recently.” He started the car and pulled out.

“Going to tell me about it?” 

“Maybe. If you’re good.” He drove off, feeling more at ease with this. 

Clint’s phone chirped, another Facebook entry. He looked down, and grinned. “I really like this Coffee mug. I think I’ll part with it last.” and held the phone up to show Phil the image of a hot cup of coffee steaming from a ‘worlds best boss’ mug. A gift from Clint several years ago. 

“Going to need to get you a couple more. “Worlds best secret boyfriend. Worlds best surprise dad. Worlds best secret keeper. Oh yes, we’ll be talking about that later.” Barton leaned back in his seat, arm behind his head, smirking. “Always did like Darcy.” 

Phil’s smile grew larger as he drove off, looking forward to meeting up with the girl again in a few days time.


End file.
